


Eyes, Look Your Last

by Moonchild707



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-02-01 01:55:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21324076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonchild707/pseuds/Moonchild707
Summary: "With brisk determination, I cocked the gun, the grinding metal loud over the rain and pounding in my ears. I waited one brief moment, eyes closed and hands shaking, before I heard the voice I knew would come in my moment of need. 'Please don't do this.'"
Relationships: Edward Cullen/Bella Swan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 76





	1. Bella

The ticking of the clock beside the sink echoed loudly in the empty, cavernous kitchen as I sat, still and unblinking, staring out the small window. The ticking was interspersed with the sound of deep, ragged breaths as my lungs sucked air, each one threatening to break and quaver, to release the emotion I had building up behind the blank façade. My mind, without conscious effort, went back to the phone calls that all ended the same way, my pleas and feeble attempts to bargain met with firm refusal.

"_I'm sorry Bella, but Jacob can't come to the phone."_

"_He's very sick, Bella."_

"_No, he's asleep just now. I'll tell him you called."_

"_Please stop calling, Bella. I'll have him call you when he's feeling up to it."_

"_He's out of the house, Bella. Please. Sam Uley-" I hung up the phone, stomach clenching and tears threatening to fall. I jerked myself away from the wall where the spiral cord still swung from the force of the phone's return to the cradle and sat gingerly on a kitchen chair._

Somewhere, deep in my mind, I knew that Sam Uley was a likely catalyst for Jacob's abrupt and sudden disappearance from my life. From the moment Jake had revealed to me that he had a sinister suspicion that Sam was watching him, waiting, something in me had been preparing for something like this. Just like _they _did_,_ Jake surely had better people to spend time with and better things to do. Just like _them,_ I knew that Jake would leave me too.

But I couldn't bring myself to face it. I didn't _want_ to face it.

"Bella?" Charlie's soft, tentative voice frightened me out of my stupor long enough for me to glance over to him, still in uniform and hanging up his work belt. When his eyes met mine, I knew what he must have seen etched on my face, as the spark of relief that had overtaken the concern he'd felt for months after my birthday was now burned out. In its place was a mask of concern and, if I was correct in reading him, worried recognition.

"What happened, baby?" he asked quietly, rushing to take off his boots and pulling a chair next to me.

"Nothing."

"Did you try Jacob again?" he asked. The hand that rested on the table in front of us twitched, as if to reach out, but he seemed to think better of it and kept still. Charlie was not adept at dealing with displays of affection.

I gave him a curt nod, averting my eyes and blinking hard to keep the tears at bay.

"And?"

"Billy says he's busy," I said, clearing my throat when my voice crackled and broke.

Charlie grunted. I frowned and took a deep breath, plastering a smile on my face that didn't fool either of us.

"Don't be mad at Billy. It's not his fault."

"Yeah," Charlie grunted.

"Maybe I'll go out to La Push and see what's up," I said, a sudden burst of inspiration taking hold. I shifted my eyes briefly to the holster on Charlie's work belt, which was hanging on the same hook he'd been using for almost twenty years.

"Good idea, kiddo," he said, his voice too gentle and eager to be genuine. "Spend some time outside. Might be good for you."

"Yeah."

"Want me to order pizza for dinner?"

"No, that's okay," I said. "I'm not really hungry. Get what you want."

"I'll grab you a small veggie for later," he insisted. "You can have some when you get home if you're hungry."

"Thanks dad," I said, shifting in my chair.

"Yeah," said Charlie, taking a deep breath and stretching his arms out above his head. "I'll just go shower then?"

"Sure."

"You gonna head out?"

"Yeah. Just need to find my jacket." The brief reprieve we'd had from the near constant downpour had ended just as Charlie walked inside.

"Right, right," he said. "See you later then, Bells."

"Love you, Dad." Charlie turned back to me, a peculiar look on his face before he smiled.

"Love you too, Bella. See you later on tonight."

"Bye, dad."

"Bye."

Charlie disappeared up the stairs and I sat, stock-still in my seat, hardly daring to breathe until I heard the unmistakable sounds of the shower starting up. Knowing Charlie often forgot his towel, I waited another two minutes before I finally moved, getting up from my chair. My backpack from school was still sitting against the wall next to the door, and I was quick to scoop it up, tossing the worn out textbooks and pieces of scrap paper onto the dining table. A pen fell out after all the books and debris, and I stared intently at it, wondering if I should leave Charlie a note.

Before I could hesitate, before I could break down and change my mind, I shoved the pen and paper away and wheeled around to the hook by the door. With a cop for a father, I had learned at a young age the proper way to handle and discharge a firearm, but even with the knowledge of how to work it, the shiny black metal frightened me. When I took it from its holster, making sure to adjust the belt so the missing gun was not obvious, it was cold and heavy in my hand. Knowing that Charlie always kept it loaded until he had a chance to clean it, I didn't worry about ammunition as I slipped it carefully into the zippered pouch of my school bag, wincing when it _thunked_ loudly against the canvas bottom.

The shower was still running when I slipped out the door, pulling my hood over my head to keep out of the rain.

It was common knowledge that my truck ran slowly, but even so, my ride to La Push felt longer than usual. The backpack with the stolen gun sat obtrusively on the seat beside me, the orange fabric distracting me from the road. Whether it was because of the faulty heating in the truck or because of nerves I would never know, but the closer I got to the reservation, the harder my hands shook. One glance at myself in the rearview mirror showed a face devoid of colour, and red lips raw from nervous chewing. I quickly looked away.

When I pulled up in front of Billy's house, backpack slung over my shoulder, not even the tumultuous downpour of rain could mask the sound of the rumbling truck. I saw Billy, frowning as he turned his chair around in the big living room window, no doubt moving to meet me at the door before I could gain entrance.

"Bella," he said loudly, allowing me to stand under the overhang in front of the door to keep out of the rain. "Jacob's not home."

"I need to see him, Billy," I said, and although I had imagined myself going into this meeting with a strong and confident demeanor, my voice was small and quivering.

"He's out," said Billy, his eyes betraying his firmness with what looked like pity.

"Please, Billy?" I asked, the ever-constant ache in my chest growing more and more painful by the minute.

"He's not home, Bella. Go home to Charlie. I'm sure he's waiting on you."

"No," I said, shaking my head vigorously. Water flew off my hood and cascaded around me.

"Go home, Bella. Forget about Jacob. He's got responsibilities he needs to take care of."

"I'm sorry, Billy," I said, my thoughts racing. "I'll do better, I promise. I just need..."

"Honey," said Billy, his voice finally betraying the sadness he felt for me. "Go home. I'll call Charlie and tell him to expect you."

"But…"

"Jacob's no good for you, Bella," said Billy gently, and I felt his large, calloused hand encase mine. I jerked away.

"_I'm no good for you, Bella."_

"Go home, honey," said Billy one final time. With a great sigh and a shake of the head he wheeled himself backwards and shut the door behind him, leaving me shaking and wet on his front porch.

"What are you doing here, Bella?" I wheeled around at the sound of his voice, uncharacteristically harsh and, surprisingly, _angry._

"Jacob," I said, taking a step forward into the rain. My heart fell when he took a step back from me, his eyes flashing and his entire body trembling.

"Jesus, you must be cold," I said, stepping to the side. "Come out of the rain."

Jake shook his head dismissively, his breath curling around him in wisps of white fog. His dark hair, once so long, was cropped short and plastered against his forehead by the falling rain. Despite the bitter cold and icy rain, he was shirtless, wearing nothing but an old pair of cutoff jeans.

"Get out of here, Bella," he said harshly.

"Jake," I started, but fell silent as he took an angry step forward.

"Go!" he shouted. "Don't come back here!"

"Jake," I said again, shaking my head as I fought to keep control of myself. "Please…"

"Just go, Bella," he said, brushing past me. He moved himself between me and his front door, ushering me away from his house.

"What happened to you?" I asked, shocked at the heat I felt radiating from him.

"I grew up," he said bitterly. My hands slipped from my pockets and my truck keys hit the muddy ground. Jake reached out and tossed them back to me, pointing me away.

"Please don't, Jake," I begged. "I'm sorry. I'll try harder…"

"I don't _want_ you to try harder!" he shouted, a vibrating tremble running down his torso. "Get out of here before you get hurt!"

I didn't need telling twice with that threat of violence looming over me, so I scrambled into the truck and peeled away as fast as it would go. As soon as Jacob's house was out of view and the road to First Beach lay before me, I broke down. The backpack on my shoulder felt heavier and more cumbersome than ever as I reached in, keeping one hand on the steering wheel while the other clamped down on the cold metal barrel of the gun. Slowing down enough to make sure I didn't wreck, I made the final turn onto the stormy beach, sand spraying out behind me as I slammed on my breaks.

The wind was stronger here in the open air than it had been under the cover of houses and trees, and I narrowed my eyes against the sharp sting of icy rain and sand. Leaving my orange school bag back in the truck I sought out the familiar driftwood log some fifty feet ahead, falling down next to it with great, heaving sobs.

"I'm sorry," I said out loud, knowing very well that no one would hear me. I was alone on the beach today, the thunderous clouds and torrential rain my refuge from prying eyes. With brisk determination, I cocked the gun, the grinding metal loud over the rain and pounding in my ears. I waited one brief moment, eyes closed and hands shaking, before I heard the voice I knew would come in my moment of need.

_"Please don't do this."_

"I love you," I said, unable to open my eyes. I couldn't open my eyes in these final moments, only to see that he was not here, that he was a figment of my imagination made up to keep me sane.

"_I love you," _the voice said back. _"Always, my darling. Please put it down and go home. Think of Charlie…"_

And I did. With a sudden urgency that surprised me, my father's face popped into my head. The ache in my chest carved itself a little deeper, and I curled up next to the driftwood log, my head touching my knees.

"_Go home to him, Bella. Please. I love you."_

"I love you," I said again, speaking not only to the voice in my head, but to my father and mother, to Jacob, to the real Edward who was off somewhere enjoying his _distractions._

"_No, Bella,"_ The voice spoke with sudden urgency as I stood and brought the gun up to my chest, holding against my beating heart.

"I'm sorry."

"_Please, love-"_

The soft plea was cut short by the sound of the gunshot echoing off of the nearby cliffs. For one brief moment, I felt a blooming pain spreading from the left side of my chest out to my stomach, to my arms and legs, my hands and feet, but before I could cry out, before I could make even the slightest sound, my back hit the sand where my feet had been just seconds before. As my eyes blinked, darkness creeping in, my breath grew short and the rain grew soft. The cloudy sky faded away above me and Edward's lingering voice faded to a mere whisper in my mind. I couldn't see. A moment later, there was no feeling, and one short breath later, there was no pain, no cold, and no sharp, wet rain against my face.


	2. Jacob

"Get out of here before you get hurt!" My voice escaped me, cold and harsh as I watched her face fall, her feebly constructed façade of strength crumbling. Self-loathing and disgust flowed through me as I watched her scramble into the old red truck I'd spent months repairing, wondering how in the world I could ever make this right. I had made her a promise. I had vowed not to hurt her. I had promised to keep her safe.

"You did good," said Sam Uley, appearing in the tree line behind my house. We had both been running patrols when we caught wind of Bella's pleading voice coming from my front door, and my father's gentle, but firm, directives. I knew it was for her own safety that she had to keep her distance, but it killed me every day to know that the darkness, the bewildered sadness that had been so deeply engrained in her when we'd first grown close, had returned with a fearful vengeance. All the time I had spent carefully maneuvering around her, trying as hard as I could to gently break that sweet girl out of her own head, was for naught. I saw now, as she faced me, how her self-loathing and inadequacy had returned. I saw the same uncertainty in her eyes when she talked to me that she had whenever I brought up that filthy bloodsucker who broke her.

The very idea of he and I in the same category, even in a place as innocuous as Bella's thoughts, filled me with such rage that it had taken everything in me not to phase on the spot when she turned her quivering, desperate face on me. I saw myself slipping further and further away from her, and I hated every bit of it.

"Jake?" Billy's voice rang out from the doorway behind me, and I turned my hateful eyes on him next.

"She doesn't deserve this," I spat at him, knowing full well that Billy was not to blame. "Goddamn it!" A lawn chair on the veranda turned to splinters under my pounding fist, and Sam stepped forward to pull me away.

"Get off the deck if you're gonna phase," he ordered, using the tone no one in our pack could refute. Jerkily, I removed myself from my father's porch, shaking harder than ever in the cold rain.

"I'm gonna call Charlie," said Billy. "She went down the beach road and I don't think she should be driving home in this rain while she's so upset."

"We'll make sure she stays put," said Sam, his brows twitching together. I knew, despite Sam's insistence on my letting Bella go, he didn't like seeing her so broken any better than I did. If my thoughts wandered to her while we were phased, my thoughts often brought him back to the night he had found her, curled in the underbrush, soaked to the bone and pale as death. Memories like that one bothered him more than he let on.

"Finally," said another exasperated voice as Paul emerged from the woods, pulling on a pair of board shorts. "Did the girl skip on home?"

"Shut up," I snapped angrily, Sam's warning glance barely registering.

"Why you want to spend so much time with a head case like her, I'll never know-" The pent up frustration and anger I'd been feeling bubbled over in a red haze, and before Sam could utter a word to stop me, my fist connected with Paul's face. Paul exploded in a mass of grey fur.

"Enough!" Sam roared angrily, as Paul's great paw swiped my shoulder, sending me flying. By the time I landed on the ground I was not walking on two feet, but rather on four muddy paws.

"_Fuck you, Jacob," _Paul's thoughts seethed. _"Fuck you, and fuck her, and-"_

Sam's order didn't hold as I broke free, lunging at Paul in a flurry of claws, fur and teeth. The fight was short and fierce, claws digging into fleshy sides and angry teeth scrambling for purchase. Only when Sam's angry voice infiltrated our thoughts, the great black wolf standing over us, growling and furious, did we break apart.

"_K__nock it off, Paul," _Sam snapped, and Paul bolted into the trees before phasing back to his human form. Sam and I made quick work of returning to our regular bodies and pulling on new shorts, as Billy turned away for the sake of privacy. I knew, as he watched from the veranda, that he was nervous. The cordless phone sat on his lap, his brief, tense call with Charlie ended after only a few seconds of conversation. Charlie made no secret of the anger he felt for my father. Billy knew that Charlie would never fully understand.

"You okay, Jake?" he asked worriedly.

"I'm fine, dad," I said angrily. "Fucking Paul, I swear to God…"

My angry tirade was cut off by all three of our heads turning in tandem as a loud, sharp sound rang out from some distance away.

"What the hell was that?" asked Billy. Sam rushed past me in a quick moment of concern, turning slowly to glance at Billy and I.

"Did you say Bella went to the beach?"

"Yeah, she took the road…" Billy pointed vaguely in the direction the sound had come from. His face slackened and his mouth fell open as he took a great, shuddering breath. He turned to face me, eyes bright and fearful as I stared back, confused.

"What?" I barked.

"Jacob, she didn't…"

"Didn't what…?" The question died on my lips as Sam swore loudly and wheeled around, taking off at a run through the trees. My father's face, Sam's curse, and the uncharacteristic panic in Paul's eyes answered the question for me.

Neither Billy or I spoke as I turned, hoping to God that he was wrong. My feet flew faster than they had in my life as I quickly caught up to Sam. Two of my pack brothers, Embry and Jared, rushed out of the trees in a tangle of paws and fur as their noses twitched towards the beach. Paul followed soon after.

I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, refusing to let my wolf take over, even if he was faster. I couldn't bear the onslaught of sound and feelings that came with the shared thoughts of the pack.

_She's fine. She's safe. She's gone home. She's—_

My internal tirade was cut short when Embry, the fastest of the phased wolves, stopped dead in his tracks, ears flat against his head. In a second he phased back to his human form, face bloodless as he scrambled into a pair of shorts offered by Sam.

"What is it?" asked Sam quickly, urging the rest of us forward.

"Blood," said Embry. "I smelled blood."

I felt sick.

We saw the truck first, tires buried deep in ruts in the sand. The driver's side door hung open and water drenched the seats inside. A quick peek showed me the gaping hole where a top-notch stereo had been months before, and a vividly orange backpack that I knew Bella would never had picked out for herself.

"Bella!" I shouted, peering around for any sign of her. "Bella!"

"Over here!" I heard Paul's voice call out through the din of the storm, and could just make out his hulking figure, hunched on the ground beside a large driftwood log. "Jesus Christ…" Sam, Embry, Jared and I all rushed forward, leaving the door of the truck open in our haste.

Her face was almost as white as the crystalline sand under her, her usually red lips, torn up by her anxious chewing, pale as the rest of her. Her eyes were closed, lashes resting gently on ashen cheeks and she was as still as I'd ever seen her. Red blood blossomed out from under her torso, staining the sand and running in gentle rivulets towards the raging waves.

For a moment that seemed like an hour, time stood still, and I stared, panic-stricken, at the beautiful girl with the halo of hair spread out beneath her.

"She's not breathing, Jacob," said Sam urgently, breaking me from my stupor. The basic first aid and CPR class I had taken so long ago rushed back to me in bits and pieces, and with only a brief moment of hesitation, I tilted her head back. Sam took the jacket off of her, paling at the sight of the red, gaping wound in her chest, and used the drenched fabric to apply pressure to the injury.

How often I had dreamed about pressing my lips to hers, of having her wrapped around me in a loving embrace that would have marked us as more than friends. I had dreamed about the day that she would let me take her face in my hands and love her like she deserved to be loved, to treat her the way she should have been treated from the very start.

I forced a breath into her lifeless body, watching as more blood gushed from her as the breath went in. Sam cursed loudly and pushed me away from her, his foot kicking the standard police-issue handgun with Charlie's badge number etched on the side. It flashed brightly as a bolt of lightning shot down from the sky, thunder cracking down not two seconds later.

"Ambulance will be here in four minutes," said Embry over the gale, a cell phone held to his ear, and one look at him told me he was ready to be sick.

"Wake up," I urged, tapping her white cheeks. Ignoring Sam's protests I pressed my lips to hers again and forced another breath into her body, cupping my hand over the wound as more of the sand stained red. Sam, cursing, batted me away and began to press sharply on her chest in quick, jerky movements.

"Wake up," I whispered again, in between breaths. "Please, wake up."

She did not stir. Sam continued to work over her, and I held her cold, white face, breathing for her when she would not.

"Jake, Sam," said Embry softly, and I glanced up to see, surprised, that the beach had been flooded emergency workers. A quick glance told me that Charlie was not among the responding officers, for which I sent up a quick prayer of thanks.

"Hold on, Bells," I said urgently, as a paramedic gently urged me out of the way. Both of our hands dripping with blood, Sam and I stood aside as the paramedics attached monitors to her chest, felt for a pulse at her wrists and neck, cut her shirt away to get a look at the gaping wound. I felt bile rise in my throat as one of the men frowned and pursed his lips, talking quickly and softly to his partner.

"Oh Jesus," said Sam quietly, as one of the police officers rolled a gurney from the ambulance, and the men surrounding Bella sat back, heads shaking.

"Where's the gun?" A police officer approached the group of us, eyes darting between my bloody hands and Sam's.

"It's Charlie's gun," I choked, pointing to the shining black metal on the sandy bank. The deputy swallowed thickly as he moved away from us, putting it carefully in a waterproof plastic bag.

When I glanced back to the spot where Bella lay she was already gone, a great red stain marking the spot where she had lain. Feeling bile rising up in my throat I turned heel and ran, moving as fast as I could towards the tree line, where my last meal made a quick and ferocious reappearance. I could hear my Sam's concern behind me as I picked myself back up and began to run again, moving blindly towards my house. I had never before been so desperate for the comforts of home.

The rain let up a bit as I came barreling into my back yard, my father and Harry Clearwater perched anxiously under the shelter of the veranda. Harry gaped as he looked me over, his eyes roving down to my hands, which were still wet and sticky with blood.

"Oh no," said Billy, sounding older than his years. "Please, God, no."

"Dad," I said, choking up as I began to tremble. "Dad."

"Jake," said Billy, rolling himself down the wooden ramp and into the rain-soaked grass. "Jake, she's not…"

"She's dead," I said, the word strange on my tongue. "Jesus Christ, she's dead." The word hung heavy in the rain-soaked air and even though I had been the one to say the word, I fought bitterly against it. I closed my eyes and tried, despite the blood on my hands, to convince myself that I was wrong.

"No," said Billy, tears in his eyes as he shook his head. "She can't be…" I felt Sam's hand resting on my shoulder as I shook, and with an angry roar, I slapped him away.

He had done this. He had pushed her away. He had forced me to let her go, to leave her…

"Jacob, control," said Sam gently, and for once, the rest of my pack held back near the trees. Not even Paul made a sound, his expression matching the somber faces of the others. I sneered at Sam as I envisioned him as the source of every wrong, fighting an instinct to retaliate. He would hurt like she had hurt. Like _I_ hurt…

The standoff ended when a loud squealing of tires sounded from the driveway, and Billy's face whitened. Harry Clearwater glanced towards the driveway as Charlie's voice called out, his footsteps coming around the side of the house.

"Billy!" he called again. "Bella!"

The sound of her name made my knees give out and I let myself fall to the cold, wet ground, unable and unwilling to face Charlie when he learned what had happened. For the first time in years, I felt my eyes burning with tears, and my shoulders shook as I knelt, Sam's hand resting on my shoulder once more. This time, I didn't shake him off.

"What's going on?" said Charlie sharply, stopping dead as the reached the yard. "Jesus Christ, Jacob! Are you hurt?"

The raindrops made the blood run red down my hands, dripping onto the grass.

"Where's Bella?" asked Charlie, taking measured steps forward to assess what he thought was my own injury.

"Charlie," said Billy, reaching out to take his old friend's hand. Charlie stopped dead in his tracks, eyes narrowing as he glanced down at Billy's gesture of comfort. He pulled away.

"Bells!" he called again, glancing towards the house. "I didn't see her truck out front. Where is she?" he demanded.

"Charlie, go inside and sit down," said Harry gently. Harry's comforting hand was rejected as well as Charlie drew himself up to full height, anger seeping through his cold mask.

"Damn it, Harry, I-" Charlie's words were cut short by the red and blue lights flashing from the front of the house, the siren blaring once. Charlie froze as the deputy who had collected the gun, Mark, stepped forward, grey-faced.

"Where is she, Billy?" asked Charlie again, and for the first time, he sounded afraid.

"Charlie…"

"Where _is_ she?" he demanded.

"Chief." Mark's soft voice interrupted. From my place on the ground, eyes streaming and thunder rolling overhead, I didn't hear the words the officer used to tell Charlie that his baby was gone. I didn't see Charlie's face when Mark handed him the bagged handgun, one round missing from the clip.

What I did see was Harry Clearwater rushing over to take Charlie under the arm as his knees failed him, and he slipped into the cold, wet grass. I saw the white, shaking face as he processed the news as best as he could, eyes darting disbelievingly from Mark to Harry, and finally to me. I saw his eyes focus on my arms, the red blood running thinner as the rain washed it away, and I heard his gut-wrenching cry as the reality sunk in.

The blood wasn't mine.


	3. Alice

The branch swayed dangerously beneath me as I crouched, one hand on the trunk for support. I could smell him nearby, hear his low laughter and quickly gliding footsteps as he traced my winding path through the woods, coming ever closer with each passing second.

"Gotcha."

I smiled ruefully as I glanced down from my treetop perch, his blonde hair catching the unobscured sunlight as he tilted his head back, grinning. Days like these were rare- days when the weather was clear and cool, and the forest filled with nothing more than the sounds of scurrying paws and chirping beaks. The last person- human or otherwise- that we had crossed on our way here was miles away, and for the first time in weeks, Jasper and I were truly alone.

I leapt down from the tree, falling the twenty feet between my branch and the ground until he caught me, pressing a quick kiss to my lips.

"Your turn," I challenged, glancing around at the vast radius of land we'd chosen for our childish game. "Shall I close my eyes and count?" Jasper laughed, setting me on my feet.

"It's hardly fair if _you're_ tracking," he mused. "You'll be able to see me as soon as I make a choice."

"Hunting, then?" I asked, taking a deep breath. The scent of a large predator, either bear or mountain lion, hung in the air, just the briefest tendrils of diluted aroma drifting in on the breeze from the east.

"Race you," said Jasper quickly, and before I had the chance to so much as turn around, he was off, his long legs giving him a far greater advantage.

"Cheater!" I cried, chasing after him as fast as my much shorter legs would carry me. It had been a long time since we had been able to simply _be_, to run as long and hard as we could, to have fun and not have to hide behind the falsities that let us live as members of modern society. Carlisle's way of life, _our_ way of life, had its perks- we were able to make friends, have colleagues, to live among others and do our very best to make a difference in the world- but with that façade of humanity came a certain loss of self. For although we were allowed a wide social sphere, we were not free to truly be ourselves.

Moments like these made everything worthwhile.

"Jasper!" I called, knowing for sure that he would beat me once again. "Hey!"

I heard his laugh from up ahead and the sound filled me with great joy. I would lose a hundred races, seclude us in endless miles of isolated woodland, if only I knew he would be happy. I fought to keep the bittersweet feelings at bay as I rushed towards him, grateful beyond measure that he had been granted this brief reprieve.

Things had been very difficult for him since we'd left Washington.

"What's got you troubled, darlin'?" Jasper's look of childlike glee at the thought of a footrace had been replaced with a look of mild concern.

"Nothing to worry yourself about," I said gently. "I'm just glad you're happy."

His face, for the merest of seconds, shifted to an expression of guilt and regret before he controlled himself, a lazy grin taking its place.

"Of course I'm happy," he said, taking my face for another kiss. "I'm with you."

The moment lasted only a moment longer.

"I know you miss her," said Jasper gently, broaching the subject we were forced to avoid back at the house.

Ever since Edward had returned from South America, drained and depleted, everyone had been doing what they could to draw him out of his black mood. The whole family had been present for the spectacular display of temper that had exploded from him the first night he'd been back, when Emmett's famously uncensored thoughts had shifted towards the girl we'd left behind in Forks. Emmett had made no secret of his disapproval of Edward's plan, and had not shied away from vocalizing it. No one knew for sure what Emmett's thoughts had revealed, and could only guess based on the blowout that ensued.

It was rare that Carlisle had to physically intervene when his children fought, but that night, Edward had been both thirsty and grieving, and Emmett was irate.

No one dared to even _think_ Bella's name in the house after that, lest they, too, incur Edward's wrath.

"We were so wrong, Jasper," I said quickly, speaking in hushed whispers even here, where I knew we would not be overheard.

"Have you seen something?" he asked, anxious.

"No," I admitted. "I just know her. I know Bella, and I know that she won't have taken our leaving as easily as Edward hoped she would. You know we loved her, and she loved us back."

Jasper didn't need to answer. It had been he who had made it perfectly plain, when Edward had first considered leaving after the James' attack, that his feelings for Bella were not at all one-sided.

"You're not supposed to abandon the ones you love," I said vehemently, my words angrier than I'd intended. "I hate that we've done this."

"I know," said Jasper, and I knew by the familiar sadness in his eyes that he was doing nothing to block my feelings.

"Our brother is an idiot," I said finally, resting my forehead on Jasper's shoulder.

"I know," he said again, pressing another kiss to the top of my head. "Do you want to keep going, or do you want to head back?"

"Back," I sighed, no longer in the mood for a spontaneous hunt. "But I refuse to continue this foolish avoidance. If I want to think about my friend, talk about her, I will."

"He won't be happy," Jasper warned, concern colouring his tone.

"I don't care one whit if he's not _happy," _I barked. "He did this to himself."

"I won't let him hurt you."

"He would never," I vowed. "He might be angry, he might shout and lash out, but I know he would never touch me."

"People do funny things when they're upset," said Jasper, shaking his head.

"He won't," I insisted. "And if he does, I'll knock him down so fast he won't know what hit him."

Jasper chuckled. "Trust you for that," he said.

The run back to the house was long and satisfying, and by the time the great house, with its blossoming trees and lit windows came into view, Jasper and I were content to walk leisurely to the back door.

"There you are," said Esme, smiling as we slipped into the kitchen. "I wondered whether you would be back today or not."

"Of course we are," I said, offering her a quick hug. "Where's everyone else?"

"Rose and Emmett are in the garage, Carlisle is filling out paperwork, and Edward is upstairs," she said, her voice quiet when Edward's name came out.

Jasper let slip a wave of irritation that I knew stemmed from Esme's hesitance. Jasper, who was very close to Esme, didn't like that Edward was a source of worry for her.

"Has he said anything to you?" he asked seriously, refusing to allow Esme to slip away.

"No, he's been quiet," she said gently. "Please don't antagonize him. He'll come around soon enough."

Edward's sounds of displeasure that would have usually accompanied gossip about him never came, the third floor bedroom silent as the dead. Jasper's brow furrowed as he glanced upward.

"Stop it, Jasper," came the angry, clipped voice of our brother. "I don't need your help."

Jasper sighed and shook his head, retracting whatever peace he'd been trying to offer. I knew it got to Jasper, constantly having to soak up Edward's animosity and negativity, but with outings like the one we'd had today, I knew he could bear it.

"He'll come around," I said gently, repeating Esme's reassurance. Jasper smiled briefly and went to sit on the end of the sofa, taking up residence in his usual reading spot. I gently lowered myself next to him, vaguely registering the voices growing louder from the garage before my vision suddenly slipped away, and I sat rigid.

_She stood alone on a beach, rain pouring and a torrent of wind blowing sand and sea spray around her. A large piece of weathered driftwood, charred by old seaside fires, lay next to her, her wobbling, trembling leg resting on it as the wind urged her sideways. Taking quick stock of my surroundings, I glanced back and saw her ancient red truck, driver's side door wide open, the orange backpack I had insisted upon drenched on the passenger seat. A cell phone lay forgotten on the floor, screen reading 5:38 PM._

_Bella didn't move._

_With the speed that came only to our kind, I left the truck behind and moved around to face her, unaffected by the storm._

_Her eyes were closed, clenched tight, as she muttered to herself, words barely discernable. Her voice was barely audible over the sounds of the ocean and the downpour, but what she was saying became unimportant when the shiny glint of a black handgun caught my eye._

"_No Bella," I said, and from somewhere far away, an angry growl broke through the noise._

"_I'm sorry," she said, her voice carrying through the din._

_My hand swiped out in front of me, reaching for the barrel of the gun I knew I could not touch. I knew, logically, that my mind was the only thing present in this horrendous vision, and that no matter what I did, how hard I tried, I would not be able to stop what she was about to do._

"_I love you," she said this time, and a tear escaped past her closed eyes._

"_Oh please," I gasped, and I felt Jasper's arms come around me. I heard him calling my name. None of it mattered when she spoke again._

"_I love you" she said again, another tear squeezing its way through her closed lids._

"_Bella, please!"_

_Her face relaxed for the briefest of moments, and as everything from the rain, the wind, and even the heaving ocean waves, stood still, the air was rent by the deafening blast of a gunshot. As if in slow motion, she fell, blood blooming on the white sand beneath her._

"Alice!" Jasper's hands held my shoulders, shaking them gently as I snapped from my vision, springing up from the couch.

I was barely on my feet before a ear-splitting roar echoed from the upper floor. Not a second later Edward flew down from the staircase, wrenching me from Jasper's grip and holding me fast, eyes black and deranged.

"Look again!" he shouted. "Look again!"

"Don't put your hands on her," snarled Jasper, shoving him back. Edward gripped his hair in a maddening display of panic and grief, just as the rest of our family rushed into the room.

"What time is it?" I demanded, looking wildly around. "What _time_ is it?!"

"Twenty to nine," said Emmett's confused voice, consulting his wristwatch. "What is going on?"

"What time is it exactly?" I demanded, rounding on my largest brother.

"8:37," he said quickly, backing up as Edward rounded on him.

"Call Charlie," he ordered, holding out his phone. "Somebody call… Somebody stop her." The din of voices around me grew louder at Edward's words, and the phone fell to the floor, forgotten.

"Look again," ordered Edward, his voice growing more panicked by the minute. "That can't be right, Alice. Look again."

Edward and I both saw the swirling blackness as I tried my best to focus on Bella, on the girl we both loved, who had mere minutes to live.

"She's not _dead!"_ roared Edward, as my unfiltered thoughts hit him. "Look again!"

The noise grew louder.

"There's nothing, Edward," I whispered, trying again and again to throw my mind into that subconscious place, to someplace I could see her.

Swirling blackness was all there was.

"No," rasped Edward. "No, no… that can't be right. No."

"What happened?" asked Jasper urgently, wheeling me around to face him.

I shook my head and tried, one last time, to search for Bella's future, for something other than inky, swirling blackness.

Emmett's watch flashed 8:40.

"She's gone," I whimpered, knowing that I could not have been more than three minutes in that vision, watching Bella on the beach. Three minutes from the time flashing on her phone to that dreaded shot, three minutes between the end of the vision, and the changing numbers on Emmett's digital watch.

"Look again," Edward whispered, hands tugging at his hair. I had never before seen that look in his eyes, and I doubted even then, if my vision was right, that the maddened grief would ever truly leave him.

More to appease my brother than for any hope of change, I urged myself into the unknown once more, this time coming up with something more than darkness.

_The small church in downtown Forks was filled beyond capacity as Reverend Weber stood at the pulpit, speaking somber words into an old microphone. Before him sat Charlie, shoulders hunched and eyes closed, and a woman I recognized from our stay in Phoenix- Renee Dwyer. The woman looked ready to collapse under the weight of tears and grief, as she stared not at the Reverend, but at the shiny, dark wood casket that rested at the front of the church. Her new husband, Phil, rested his arm on her shoulders._

"You're wrong," Edward said, his voice rushing back as the vision dissipated. I stood, still as a statue, as he rounded on me, his entire body shaking.

"That's a lie," he spat. "You're wrong."

"I'm not wrong," I said, my voice small. Jasper pulled me closer.

"What happened, Alice?" asked Carlisle, and for the first time since Jasper and I had joined his family, he sounded every bit as old as his three hundred years. No one spoke as my eyes lifted, meeting the soft golden gaze of our leader, our _father_, the man who had grown to love _all_ his children and who valued his family above all else.

"Bella's gone."


	4. Edward I

The silence inside the car was deafening.

"_That's a lie. You're wrong."_

_My mind was racing._

"_I'm not wrong," said Alice gently, her bright eyes meeting mine for the first time since the vision had taken hold. I heard her thoughts loudly in my mind, saw the repeating image of her falling to the ground, the loud bang of the gunshot over the wind and rain, the growing crimson bloom as it spread over the dark front of her jacket…_

"_What happened, Alice?" asked Carlisle, his thoughts full of anxiety as he focused in on my sister, beseeching._

"_Bella's gone," said Alice, her voice small. I felt the last tendrils of sanity wisp away from me, as if on an errant breeze, as once again, the image replayed itself in her head. A broken record. I didn't hear, didn't _want_ to hear, what Carlisle's concerned voice was saying to me. I didn't want his comforting hands on my shoulders, his whisper in my ear._

"_No, no, no, no." The words repeated themselves, escaping me as I clutched at my hair. I couldn't focus on the thoughts and words floating around the room, couldn't make sense of their meaning or intent. Worry for me. Anger. Heart-wrenching sadness for her._

"_No, no, no, no…"_

"Edward?" Esme's gentle voice broke me from the constant replay of that moment, and with a jolt I realized she was in the car next to me. I couldn't meet her eyes as her thoughts reached out, gentle and careful as she always was with me. I felt her hand on my arm before I brusquely dismissed her, my curt words biting as she heaved a deep sigh, moving slowly out of the vehicle.

The people around the church stared with varying degrees of astonishment at the sight of my parents and siblings. Even in their grief they looked impeccably perfect, though not one showed any sign of our usual nonchalance.

"It's time, Edward," said Alice's voice, speaking in low tones so as not to draw any more attention to us. Jasper's arm rested around her shoulders, holding her to him, deep lines creasing his brow. Even in my grief, I knew this would be difficult for him. Such an intense emotional climate would surely take its toll.

"Give me a minute, Alice," I growled out. To my surprise, it was Emmett who gave the tinted window concealing me a quick frown, turning away to walk towards the church entrance. He took Rosalie with him, her hesitance to leave me alone, even with the others waiting, showing in her gait. Emmett took no notice.

I couldn't help it when my focus shifted to my brother's thoughts, seeing what he saw in my own mind.

"_Get yourself together before you come inside,"_ he thought, his words brusque but not unkind. I saw the doors of the church looming before him, felt Rosalie's tight grip on his hand as he pushed it open with ease. I heard the surprised murmurs from the mourners as he and Rose stepped inside, their focus immediately shifting to the space at the front of the church.

I reeled back as Emmett stood at the back of the queue to wait his turn.

I didn't want to see her this way.

For the entire drive from New York to Forks- Alice had insisted on driving- I sat in the backseat of the black Mercedes, silent and still. With Carlisle in the driver's seat, Esme beside him and Jasper next to me the entire time, there had been a deep calm and sense of reluctant acceptance in the vehicle. I knew from Jasper's thoughts that he was doing his best to diffuse the anxiety, the crippling sadness, the baffling confusion, and the fruitless quest for satisfaction. In that car, on our way to Washington, Jasper hadn't allowed me to feel the panic I knew was fighting to gain control. Jasper had kept things manageable.

But now, with great effort, he had backed off, letting the entire onslaught of feelings take control. No longer was I calm and stoic. If I had been breathing, I would have been hyperventilating. Never before, not even in my most distant memories, had I felt panic and fear akin to this, and for something so inconsequential.

I was terrified to walk into that church, to cross that threshold and face the dire consequences of my foolish choices. I had never feared my own death, that much was always clear to me, but something deep inside, something visceral and animal, wanted to run, to turn away from the sight of that casket I knew lay inside. The fear of losing these final moments of denial loomed large and angry over me as I sat hunched in my seat, reminding me that as soon as I walked through those doors, everything would be final.

I left the car anyways.

"_I'm so sorry, Edward,"_ Rosalie's thoughts filtered through, loud and clear for the first time in days. The habit of tuning into her thoughts, of looking through her eyes to see her what she saw, took over me, and it was then that I saw what waited inside, the reason we were here.

Jasper stood behind me, his hands on my arms as he held me upright, Alice muttering quickly to Carlisle.

I could hear the voices of mourners, both in my head and through the doors and windows of the church in front of me. I heard Emmett's whispered consolation to my sister, whose eyes were glued on the still, white face resting on a satin cushion. Like the coward I was I tried to reel back, to recoil and turn away from the image that would be forever burned in my memory, like a black inkblot on a new sheet of paper. My feet responded to my command only feebly, trying to step back from this place, from _her_, but Jasper and Carlisle held me steady.

"Easy, son," said Carlisle gently, as Jasper let me go, eying me carefully. At Carlisle's nod, he took Esme and Alice each by the hand and led them slowly inside, neither one looking back on my cowardice.

"Come on," said Carlisle, his hand on my back to urge me inside. I knew he felt my resistance, my unwillingness to face what was waiting, but he led me anyways, his thoughts oddly silent as we moved. The doors of the church were in front of us before I was ready, and without any fanfare, Carlisle pushed them open.

The world shut down as soon as I stepped inside.

It felt, for the briefest of moments, as if we, my beloved and I, were the only two people in that overstuffed, overheated room. Alice's concerned, rambling thoughts vanished, and in that moment, there was no more sister to worry over me. The noise of the many mourners faded away, and there were no others to offer comfort. Carlisle's hand disappeared from my back, and there was no father to guide me. She and I were alone in the tiny church, she laying still at the altar, and I, like the coward I was, frozen at the back. There were no thoughts to assault me, no loud thumping of heartbeats to break the silence.

Just the two of us, both silent, both still, but only one grieving.

Just as quickly as the world had dwindled so did it rear back up again, the noise and sensory overload seeming twice as strong in its reappearance. Alice's thoughts rushed to me with greater concern than they had a few moments before, the voices of the other mourners returned to hushed condolences, and the pressure of Carlisle's hand on my back continued to urge me forward.

"Doctor Cullen. Mrs. Cullen." Charlie's gruff voice tethered me to reality again as my mind threatened to break away, to shut down, to drive me mad.

"Charlie," said Esme, and with bright eyes and a quavering voice, she reached over and engulfed him in a strong hug. Charlie's eyes widened and he patted her back quickly before she let go, stepping back to let Carlisle shake his hand.

"We're so sorry, Charlie. Bella was a beautiful child." The sound of her name made a lump grow in my throat and my eyes burn as I quickly turned away, swallowing hard. Charlie, who was not restricted by the limitations of my kind, let two fat tears roll down his cheeks. Another stab of guilt struck me as I recalled the Charlie I had known last summer, who wouldn't have been caught dead crying in public.

"Yes she was," he said firmly, nodding his agreement with Carlisle's assessment. "Beautiful." He spoke the word so quietly that I knew he hadn't meant for us to hear.

"And she loved _you_, that's for damn sure," he said gruffly, turning his attention to me. Jasper sent me a gentle wave of calm as my feelings of sadness and guilt overflowed, threatening to take over completely. I took a deep, shaking breath.

I still couldn't bring myself to look in that casket for myself, to walk up and see her there, still and pale…

"He's still in shock, I think," said Carlisle, smoothing over my tense silence. "It was a shock to all of us."

Charlie grunted, still focused on me.

"Not your fault, son," he said, in what I knew he hoped was a soothing voice.

"I'm sorry." I had never spoken truer words in my life. This guilt and the love I held for Bella were the most honest feelings I'd ever felt.

"It's not your fault," said Charlie again, his voice stern this time. "You can't blame yourself. You weren't even here…"

Charlie's thoughts betrayed his true feelings to me, and I was assaulted with a vivid image of Bella, forlorn and distant as she sat, curled at the kitchen table. I saw a hulking bear of a man carrying Bella out of the forest, her yellow jacket a dead giveaway as Charlie rushed forward to take her from him. Through Charlie's thoughts I heard her screaming in the dead of night, saw her cringe when Charlie spoke my name in gentle, anxious tones…

"_He's just a damn kid."_ Charlie's thoughts cut off his angry recollections with abrupt finality. _"Look at him, for Christ's sake. He's just a kid."_

If only he knew.

"Renee is up front, by the…" Charlie said abruptly, changing subjects as he gestured vaguely towards the front of the church. "She didn't want to leave her."

My own mother choked up at his words and politely excused herself, moving carefully through the thick throng of people towards Renee, who stood near the casket.

"Thanks for coming," said Charlie finally, the awkward silence in Esme's wake persisting. "I'm sure Bella would have appreciated it."

Alice hugged Charlie then, her small frame somehow engulfing his. Though Charlie was not fond of emotional displays he tolerated and reciprocated Alice's embrace easily enough. Alice had grown on Charlie during our time here.

When Carlisle's hand returned to my back, gently directing me towards the front of the church, I stopped dead.

"I can't," I said, choked. "I can't see her like this."

"You have to," said Carlisle gently. "You need to say goodbye."

"No." I shook my head. Carlisle stared at me for a long moment before he stepped away, mind full of concern and consternation. He was torn. On one hand, he knew I needed to see her, to find closure, to take the first step in letting her go, if I was ever to find peace. On the other, he understood my fear, understood that if it were Esme in that wooden box, he couldn't imagine the strength he'd need to face her. Some part of him understood the herculean effort it had taken me to even set foot in the church, and couldn't fathom the mental and emotional strength I would need to stand at the edge of that casket, to look her full in the face and say what I needed to say.

"If you could all please find seats, we will get started in a few minutes." The voice of Reverend Weber, Angela's father, rang out through the church from his place at the pulpit, and slowly, everyone began to file into pews. Carlisle ushered our family quickly to the back, so as not to be sources of distraction to the others in attendance.

Emmett sat himself between Rosalie and I, resting a large hand on my shoulder. Whether this was for my comfort or to prevent any dramatic displays of emotion I didn't know, but I appreciated it nonetheless.

Emmett had always been a rock for our family.

"We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of a wonderful young woman who was lost to us far too soon…" The reverend's voice rang out, and I forced myself to stare, unblinking, at the wooden pew in front of me. The minister spoke for a long while and while his words reached me, I couldn't bring myself to focus on them. Only when Bella's mother stood, face red and blotchy, did I pay closer attention, holding on to every last detail of the life I had so cruelly snuffed out.

Renee spoke gently and with startling composure about the girl she'd raised, about the baby she had loved so dearly ever since their first moments together. She spoke of misguided kitchen adventures to fantastically catastrophic ballet lessons. She recalled an endearing, clumsy child who loved books and learning. She spoke of a girl who lived gently but loved fully, of a young woman who had spent the last summer of her life poring over college application brochures. She spoke of a girl with a bright future ahead of her, of a life of possibilities and opportunities.

"She was a bright, happy, and loving child," said Renee gently, glancing down at the paper she had prepared. "It was a shock to all of us when she grew so sad, so lonely. Bella was always quiet, but we never imagined she was so lost and unhappy. I can only hope now, baby, wherever you are, that you're happier than you were with us, and that even though I can't be with you, you know how much I loved you."

Renee wasn't two feet from the pulpit before she broke down and was escorted from the podium by her new husband, who guided her gently into her seat. Charlie rose next, standing stiffly at the microphone.

I tuned out again, only briefly registering my name in Charlie's less eloquent, bumbling speech about his daughter. As always, Charlie was a man of few words. Angela Weber and a large, sullen-looking boy from the reservation, the one who had interrupted us during prom last year, spoke as well. I caught his angry, scathing glare directed at us as he stepped down from the microphone, returning to his spot next to a quiet man in a wheelchair.

"We would ask you now to pay your respects and exit the church, so the family can have a few minutes to themselves before we proceed to the churchyard," said Reverend Weber. "We will be holding the burial in just under an hour, with a small luncheon in the church basement afterwards. Thank you for being here to show your support for Charlie and Renee in their time of need."

Many of the parishioners filed out of the church, having already said their goodbyes before the service. A few people remained behind to shake Charlie's hand one more time, and to express heartfelt condolences to Renee. One or two made their way to the casket once again, gazing down at my darling girl.

Carlisle was the last to speak with Charlie.

"Do you mind if he takes a minute?" I heard Carlisle ask in an undertone. "I think he might be more forthcoming without everyone else here."

"Take all the time you need, there's no rush," said Charlie gruffly, his gaze shifting to me. "I'm gonna take Renee downstairs for some water. We'll be back in a little bit."

"Thank you, Charlie. You're a good man," Carlisle said as Charlie took Renee by the hand, ignoring Phil, and walked her past the casket and behind the pulpit, where the stairs to the basement were.

Carlisle and I were alone with her now, the rest of my family having filed out with the other mourners.

"Go and say goodbye," said Carlisle gently, taking my face in his hands and forcing me to meet his gaze. "I can leave you alone, if you'd like."

"Yes," I said, pulling away from him. "Alone. Right."

"I'll be just outside," he said. "I'm so sorry, Edward."

I stared at him as he left, and I was truly left alone. For one long moment, I stood facing the door, torn between gratitude for this modicum of privacy, and terror at the idea of being alone with her, like this.

I forced myself to turn around.

Just like she had been in Rosalie's thoughts, she lay on the white satin cushion, her lower half covered by the closed lid of the casket. She looked as she always had, beautiful even now, dressed simply in the casual clothes she loved best. There was no sign of the ugly damage the gun had caused under her clothing. Her lovely, tantalizing scent, muted and tainted by chemicals, was still present beneath the rest of it, and I took one deep final breath, committing that familiarity to memory. Knowing I was alone with her, I looked long and hard before I carefully reached my hand towards her, running a finger down her cheek. Her skin was cold, but just as soft as it had always been and I waited, desperate, for the telltale blush and furious heartbeat that always accompanied my gentle caresses.

My dead heart broke a little more when she remained exactly as she was- cold, pale, still, and silent in her satin bed.

"I'm sorry," I said, choked as I leaned in close to her, my face almost close enough to feel the tickle of her hair on my cheek. I spoke quietly, too quiet for anyone, human or otherwise, to overhear.

"I love you. I _love_ you. I never stopped," I said, leaning forward to press a kiss to the side of her head. "I'm sorry I didn't love you properly."

With a gentle, lingering kiss to her cheek and a quick caress to the top of her head I straightened myself up with only a moment to spare before I heard Charlie, Renee and Phil on the stairs again, coming back up to say their final goodbyes.

"You okay?" asked Charlie, mildly concerned as he took in my wild eyes and unkempt hair, dishevelled by my compulsive tugging.

"Fine," I breathed out, nodding as I stepped back, almost frantic, from the side of the casket. Her body looked exactly I remembered it, down to the last freckle on her upturned nose. The shape of her lips, the shade of her hair, the anxiously bitten fingernails that never grew long enough for my sister to paint, were all familiar parts of her that lay there, quiet and still. But her essence, the part of her that I had loved most, that inexplicable part of every living being that some called the_ soul_, the life force, had left her. Like a butterfly that emerges from its crystalline prison, bursting with new life and colour, so too had Bella freed herself from the bonds of Earth, from the bonds of love that hadn't been enough to hold her.

When I next glanced up, I found that my feet had carried me out to the small churchyard beside the building itself, where a freshly dug plot of earth waited, a large crowd growing around it. I felt Alice's hand on my arm, holding me back as she whispered desperately in my ear.

"We've got to go," she murmured gently, glancing up at the sparsely clouded sky. "The sun, Edward. Please…"

"Just a minute," I ground out, pulling away from her. The crowd parted easily before me as Alice called me back, the hint of panic in her voice heard only by my family. I reached the side of the large, earthy hole quickly enough, glancing down to the black bottom.

This is where they'd put her.

"Edward, please," said Alice again, making her way towards me. "Please, let's go. Please."

"_You can't stay,"_ she thought desperately. _"We can come back tomorrow and see her, but please, we need to move."_

"I forgot flowers," I blurted quickly, glancing around at the many hands filled with all manner of plant life. Roses, carnations, lilies, daffodils…

"I'm sorry," she said. "Tomorrow." _"Please come with us. Please."_

Emmett took a step forward then, away from Rosalie, ready to take me by force if need be. His thoughts rang out loud and clear. It was then that I saw it, a few feet from where her headstone would sit, tall, white and perfect.

A lone daisy.

Gripping it desperately in my hand, I plucked it from the ground, holding it to my chest as I was pulled away. Alice's small hand urged me towards Emmett, who took no shame in forcing me away.

"Leave that, man," he said quietly, jerking his chin at the flower. "We can get her some nice ones tomorrow, Ed. I'll run into Port Angeles for you, or..."

"No." I held the flower as tightly as I dared, so tight that I risked shredding it with the force of my grip. Emmett frowned quickly, his thoughts turning hesitant as he spoke carefully. He let me go and held up his hands in surrender, watching as I maneuvered around him to the back seat of my father's Mercedes.

I focused on the flower as we drove.

"We can stay the night at the house," said Carlisle gently. "Maybe get some hunting in. Then, if you're up for it, we can head out to a florist and see what we can do."

"Sure."

"Are you alright?" he asked, and Esme shifted in her seat to glance back at me. I was alone in the back seat this time.

"Fine." Liar. I would never be fine again.

"What can I do to make this better?" she asked gently.

"I just need some time to think," I said, the decision hitting me all at once. I quickly stamped it down, refusing to settle on it, lest Alice see and intervene.

"Of course," she said quickly. "Of course."

"Can I take the car?" I asked quietly, looking this time to Carlisle. His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, gaze searching and penetrating as he assessed me.

I knew he suspected.

"If you want to," he said, his voice hesitant. "You're alright?"

"Fine."

"_You're not fine,"_ he accused, his thoughts betraying his casual words. _"Please don't be away too long. Your mother will worry."_

I didn't reply as Carlisle pulled into the driveway behind Rosalie's red BMW, tossing me the keys and ushering the others inside. Alice's questioning glance turned to concern before Jasper urged her away, and I slid smoothly into the driver's seat.

"Stay out of the sun!" she called from the front step, dodging Jasper's restraining arm. "Be careful!"

"I will," I lied, offering her a small smile that made her frown deepen. I placed my daisy in the cup holder of the car as I sped away down the driveway, purposely tuning out the questioning thoughts of my family.

I was in already in the plane, soaring over the Atlantic ocean when I felt my cell phone buzzing in my pocket, Alice's name flashing on the small screen.


	5. Edward II

The afternoon sun scorched the brown cobblestones underfoot as I stood, leaning against the wall of the clock tower. City sweepers moved to and fro in the harsh heat, gathering piles of red debris from the St. Marcus Day festivities that had just taken place the day before. Staring out from my cool, shaded refuge in the alleyway, I watched as the townspeople moved from place to place, some vising friends and family, some on their way to shops. Children dipped their hands into the fountain in the town square, laughing as the cool water chased away some of the dry summer heat. The daisy clutched in my hand wilted down over my fist.

The clock ticked ever on.

"_You've made your decision, then?" I growled out, eyes glued on the tall, leonine figure on the dais. "You won't help me." His thoughts betrayed him before he could even try to conceal himself from me._

"_Unfortunately," began Aro, his voice slick and oily, "we have decided that a gift of this... _magnitude,_ would be a waste."_

_"I see."_

"_But if you're unhappy with your lot," he continued, "we would be pleased to offer you a place in our ranks. Join us."_

"_You know it will happen," I growled, my black eyes turning on Marcus as he shifted to face me._

"_Not unless we are forced." His voice, old and weathered despite his eternal youth, rang with authority and quiet warning._

"_Such a waste," mourned Aro, and in his thoughts I caught a glimpse of his bitter disappointment. His longing, his _need_,_ _to add my particular skillset to his arsenal was almost overpowering. I saw his quickly flying thoughts as he tried to come up with a solution, with a way to prevent what I knew was inevitable._

"_Goodbye, Edward," said Marcus quietly, turning away from me again. Aro, eyes narrowing, twitched towards his brother, and I heard the clear dismissal in both minds. Caius stared, malevolent and angry, as I turned heel and stalked away._

I had moved through the shadows silently and without notice until I stood here, beside the great clock tower, the shadow of the palace on the far side of the city unable to reach me. I knew that somewhere, among the throng of people, Volturi guards stood sentinel, watching me for any sign of misbehaviour.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, the sound jolting me from my musings. I knew without having to check that Alice's name would be lighting the screen. I let it go to voicemail.

"I'm sorry, Alice," I said aloud, and for the first time since my arrival, I saw one small human head turn to me, curiosity burning.

"_He's lost his shirt," _came his eager thoughts as the child, who couldn't have been older than four, turned to stare at me. "Mama!"

"Come along," said the mother, speaking in rapid Italian. "It's hot as Hades out here, and your grandfather is waiting on us. Come _along!"_

"That man lost his shirt!" cried the child, pointing a plump finger in my direction. I slunk back into the shadows, out of view as the mother turned to see. The clock had not yet chimed. The time had not yet come.

I knew that even here, hiding in the dark shadows with nothing more than a wilted flower to keep me company, Alice would be watching. I knew that she could see me, ignoring her calls, speaking her name to the empty air as I imagined her, anxious and angry. I knew she would be watching my every move, trying, without the slightest possibility of success, to change my mind, to call me back. I held on to my flower a little harder, feeling the stem flatten against my palm.

The clock face on the other side of the tower shifted to 11:59, as I caught sight of it through the mind of a frazzled and harassed shopkeeper. I stepped out of the small alcove I'd been hiding in, and inched closer to the light.

_Soon, my love._

"Don't make me hurt you," came a quiet voice from behind me, a voice that both threatened and comforted. A brief glance behind me showed the thin, lithe figure of Demetri, one of Aro's guard.

I turned away from him, silent. He inched closer.

"You have ten seconds to turn around before I take you out," he threatened, and his thoughts belied no hesitation. He didn't see the small smile that graced my lips as I took another step forward, my toes peeking out into the sunlight.

"Edward!" The warning was sharp and clear, causing many heads to turn our way.

The last syllable of Demetri's shout was drowned out by the sudden tolling of the clock bell, signaling the sun's peak position in the sky. The warmth of the sun on my face as I closed my eyes, stepping out into the crowded square brought me back to our first time in the meadow, the first time I had truly shown myself to her. I remembered, in that brief moment, how her warm, gentle hand had caressed me, called me beautiful, her wide, brown eyes alight with awe.

The eyes that stared this time, however, were filled with fear and confusion as everyone, from that small, curious child to an elderly man sitting on the steps of a café, turned to look at the strange man emerging from the shadows. I heard the angry, cursing thoughts of the Volturi guard behind me as he was joined by his brothers in arms from the other side of the pavilion. I saw, in a blur that the humans could not catch, two black figures skirting along the shadows of the walls, just as two strong hands grasped my upper arms and jerked me backwards, into the darkness once more.

The clock tolled a second time.

"Wrong choice," said Demetri, his voice hissing in my ear. He wheeled me around just as Felix, the great, hulking man whose size could rival Emmett's, and another man I did not know, rounded the corner. Felix's eyes, red just hours ago, were now black, glinting as he rounded on us.

"You know what the punishment is," he said, his voice a low growl. "Aro warned you."

"Yes."

My phone buzzed angrily in my pocket once more, and I felt Demetri reach in to grab it. Reading the name on the screen he flipped it open, listening.

"_Oh thank god!"_ Alice's shrill voice rang through the speaker. _"Where are you now, Edward? Carlisle's already on a flight…"_

Demetri glanced over at me for the barest of seconds, and I felt my heart clench for my sister, so far away and unable to help.

"Your leader will be too late. The laws must be upheld," he said flatly, turning to give Felix a nod. Larger hands replaced Demetri's restraining one as the clock tolled again, loud and echoing through the small passageway.

Alice's cries were cut short as Demetri snapped the phone shut and tossed it to the ground, where it broke open on the stone.

The chime rang out again.

"Do it now," said Demetri quickly, glancing at the swinging bell. "Quickly, before anyone sees."

The last thing I saw before I closed my eyes was my flower falling to the ground, where it was swept on a gentle, hazy breeze.

ooOoo

When I opened my eyes once more— and what a strange feeling it was— my vision was green. I breathed in the scent of grass, of flowers and trees. I could hear the distant sounds of running water, of bees buzzing gently overhead, of wind rustling the leaves of trees. I took a deep breath, feeling my lungs burn for air as I moved my hand to run over my face. Gently, almost gingerly, I sat up in the cushioning grass, glancing quickly around me to regain my bearings.

I recognized the place at once.

Deep blue, almost indigo skies shone directly overhead, a curious mixture of sun, moon and stars painting a vivid picture of celestial beauty. To the west the skies were deep pink, fading to orange before the trees obscured the horizon, silhouetted black against the fading light. The east saw an inky blackness taking over, thousands of pinprick stars awakening as the sun descended.

The sky, however, paled in comparison to what waited me at the edge of the forest, curled gently on the ground, eyes looking out towards the fading sun. Her hair, just as I remembered it, was splayed out behind her, tumbling over long grass and colourful wildflowers as it on our first visit here so long ago. Her eyes did not turn to me as I stood and walked forward, careful not to startle her. A glint of white caught my eye as I looked down to her outstretched hand, and I saw her fingers clenched loosely around the daisy, no longer wilted and dry. She stroked the petals almost absently as she continued to stare, unblinking, into the pink glow. I stepped up next to her, the grass whispering beneath my feet and she started slightly, shifting.

She turned then, sitting up in the grass, eyes wide and disbelieving as she looked me up and down. Her hand hovered in mid air as she reached out towards me, stopping herself before she could touch, glancing up to meet my eyes. There was no sign of death about her this time, no unearthly pallor to mar her. There was no evidence of a bullet wound, no sign of blood or pain as I knelt down before her, taking in every last inch of her. Gently reaching out, I felt the warmth of her cheek, her eyes closing briefly as she leaned into my touch. A sharp breeze picked up then and I took a deep breath, catching just the slightest hint of freesias and strawberries as her hair blew towards me, tickling my chin. I took her small body in my arms then, pulling her to me and feeling that gaping wound in my heart close, and that missing piece of myself that she had taken with her fell back into place. I had the strangest sensation of a pounding in my chest, a feeling of dizziness coming over me as her arms returned the embrace and she pressed her face into my shoulder.

"I'm sorry."


End file.
